


When Rhodey Met Tony

by pheonix85



Series: suitemates verse [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: But He Gets There, College, Enemies to Friends, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark at MIT, MIT Era, Rhodes is a little uptight to begin with, kind of? except they're not really enemies, they're just not friends right away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 15:14:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20409856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pheonix85/pseuds/pheonix85
Summary: James Rhodes got into MIT on a ROTC scholarship and the last thing he needs is to deal with is what he assumes will be some entitled, trust fund baby from Malibu, CA.





	When Rhodey Met Tony

**Author's Note:**

> Came across this [tumblr post](https://cattlaydee.tumblr.com/post/186975377325/this-rhodey-with-this-tony-mmmm-re-reblogging) last week and this just kind of wrote itself. I do have him go by "James" for most of this, because I've always pictured Rhodes as the more serious, firmer of the two and I think that's on purpose, like a foil, or that they balance the other out (i just really love their friendship, okay?). i have a few more one-shots planned if it's well enough received.

** _August 1986_ **

James Rhodes shows up to check-in at the MIT dormitory he’s been assigned 15 minutes early.

_If you’re early, you’re on time,_ the voice of his JROTC instructor rings in his ears. _If you’re on time, you are late!_

He’s wearing a nice pair of slacks and a button-up shirt that hangs freely, but neat. His parents rented a station wagon to drive up to Cambridge from Philly with him, packing whatever he had, set on seeing the campus he’d be at. His dad was older and the trip was difficult, but he was the first of the family to be going to college outright from high school, full scholarship and everything, and his dad had been adamant about seeing him moved in alright. 

_Louis Smith_. That had been the boy's name, some kid randomly selected based off of mutual likes and dislikes, _shared experiences_. The boys had spoken a couple of times on the phone, had written a few letters detailing their priorities when it came to what they would be bringing for their dorm room. James is excited to meet him---he feels like a racehorse banging against the stable door, ready to take on MIT and the ROTC program there, and then the world.

He’s ready to go.

He marches up to the front desk and presents all his intake paperwork than came with his administrative information, as well as with his scholarship details. The administrator skims his information, then glances over at a clipboard at her side, flipping through the listing, page by page, a confused frown settling on her face. 

His mother places a hand on the middle of his back to pre-emptively calm him.

“Is there something wrong?” He hears his dad ask. 

“No, no, everything is fine,” The administrative shakes her head and looks up at him, a reassuring smile on her lips. They are caked with flaking, rose-colored lipstick that has caught one of her front teeth and James has to bite back a frustrated sigh. “There’s just been a change in your room assignment.”

His chest tightens. “What? Why?”

“Um,” The woman is flustered, flipping through the papers. “I...it’s not noted? But, you are being upgraded to one of our single rooms. It’s on one of the top floors, a corner of the building, a beautiful view overlooking the quad.” Her smile morphs apologetic. “There must have been a registration error, I can double-check, if you’d like----”

“No.” James holds up a hand. “No, I’m good, a single room…” That sounds _great_, actually, as much as he was looking forward to a great roommate, there was something about _a single room_ that sounded kind of amazing. “Is that...compatible with my current scholarship?

She nods. “Oh yes, it is. There is no indication any payment is due at this time, but you can take that up with the bursar if you have any additional questions.” She thrusts a key attached to a plastic card at him. “You’re on the 6th floor, room 28. You do have a suitemate you will be sharing a bathroom and kitchenette with, but the rooms themselves will be separate.

James brows raised. He’d read that the bathrooms were communal, that the microwaves and the sinks were as well, so hearing that was a surprise too. He doesn’t question it, only grabs onto his suitcase and his father follows with the dolly and they make their way to a freight elevator to get up to the floor while the intake is still relatively slow.

“Jimmy, what did that lady mean?” His mother asks softly, once the doors are closed. “You’re not going to have anyone to live with?”

He smiles a little at that. “I’m gonna check on it later, momma, but I think they must’ve just had a vacancy or something, moved people around.” He shrugs. “Living on my own will be better. And as a freshman, that’s got to be unheard of. But I won’t have to worry about noise, or not being able to study or any of that. It’s kind of perfect.”

His mother didn’t look quite at ease. “But you’ll be all by yourself.”

He waves a hand, shaking his head. “I’ll have a suitemate. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

They manage to get his bags into the room and mostly unpacked by the time it’s around 11. It’s an organized mess; his books are still in a stack on his bed instead of the shelf in the corner and his minifridge is still in the box but his mother claims success and with a smile, insists they go out to lunch before they leave.

He obliges. James is hard-pressed to deny his mother or father anything they want. He’s worked hard to get himself to this point, but they’ve worked harder, his father at the steel mill and his mother two jobs since he’s been in Junior high. They have a nice, comfortable life to show for it and though he insisted they not go overboard with him leaving, he has arrived with everything he needs and he’s grateful.

He pays, though; he insists, for all their help driving him up to school.

“As if I would let my eldest son leave my home by himself,” his mother huffs, sliding a look at him out of the corner of her eyes but she lets him pay. They go to a diner close to the campus and his parents point out how nice the neighborhood is, how good the food is, how nice his new room is. 

It’s obvious, James thinks, how nervous they are. He’s never been away from home for more than a long weekend and he heard his mother crying in their bedroom last night. He knows she’s happy for him, and that she wants him to go but it’s hard as well. 

They return to the dorms and although it’s afternoon, there’s no sign of his neighbor. Strange, maybe, but maybe he’ll get lucky and have the entire pair to himself; a nice quiet corner of the building where he can retire and focus on his studies and just have some privacy when he’s not out involved in everyday college life.

There’s not much unpacking left. His parents linger for a little bit, but somewhere around 2 or 3 they announce they’re going to leave; it’s an almost 6-hour drive back to Philly and they don’t want to have to stop overnight again.

His mom cries. She gives him so many hugs, a kiss on each cheek and finally steps away, telling his father she’ll be waiting in the car. His dad stands and watches him in silence, waiting for her to leave before he steps towards his son. He presses a hand to James face and smiles. 

“I always knew you were going to be something someday. Someone. You were always too smart not to.” He kisses him on the cheek, pulling him in for a tight hug, and James smiles, trying to keep his eyes from tearing up. 

He was going to miss them a lot.

“I love you, and I am _so proud_ of you.” His dad says softly, pulling back. “You know you can come home whenever

It’s only when he steps back that they both notice they’ve had an audience.

James cheeks warm as he surveys this interloper. He’s a gangly little thing, probably a kid brother to someone on his floor; his black hair is sticking up in a few different directions and his white shirt hangs on him, looking about 2 sizes too big for him. He’s clutching a few, well-worn notebooks and has a backpack on one shoulder, and a pair of wide-rimmed glasses sit at the base of his nose. 

He’s staring, too; up, at the back of James’ father’s head with an odd expression, but as soon as he realizes that James is watching him, his expression falls blank, and then he smiles, a lopsided grin, shifting the pack higher onto his back and holding out a hand. 

“Oh, hey! Hope I wasn’t interrupting anything. I’m Tony Stark, I guess you’re the guy I'm sharing the facilities with.”

Alarm bells. That’s all that James hears inside his head, and his father’s eyes go round.

“Tony Stark? As in---”

“As in Stark Industries, yeah.” When James doesn’t take his hand, his brows jump and his eyes roll and he retracts the offer, grabbing at his notebooks.

“Aren’t you like...15?"

“16,” Tony corrects. “I’m 16, just in May.” He lifts his hands up with the notebooks. “Prodigy or whatever.”

James fights the urge to roll his eyes, knowing his father is watching him. “Well. Yeah. I guess we’re gonna be suitemates.”

Tony’s grin widens. “Awesome!”

“Aren’t you going to introduce yourself, son?” His dad gives him a pointed look, a gentle warning behind his tone. His father can see him, just on the edge of laying into this kid, and even he knows he has to not jump to conclusions.

James has the creeping feeling _this_ may be why his room assignment changed.

“James Rhodes,” He reaches out a hand finally, and Tony takes it enthusiastically. “This is my dad.”

“Terrence.” His father reaches out as well.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Rhodes,” Tony says politely, and James thinks, well at least he has _some_ manners.

His father excuses himself, giving James one last affectionate rub on his head before walking off, leaving Tony and James alone. They stare at each other silently, until James notices a man walking up, leading two other men who are carrying bags.

He is not Howard Stark, James notices.

“Jarvis!” Tony says happily. “This is my new suitemate, James Rhodes. Jim?” He asks, looking back at James.

“James.” He responds flatly but smiles at the man behind him. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Rhodes. I’m Edwin Jarvis, I work for Mr. Stark.”

They shake hands and Tony digs into his pocket for his key. He lets himself into his room, throwing his pack on the bed and begins to examine the room closely, leaving James alone with what he assumes is a butler.

“Is this the reason my room was reassigned?” He asks pointedly, staring up at the older English man. 

Jarvis doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he turns to the men, giving them quick, clipped instructions and gesturing to the room before turning a little so he’s kind of facing James while looking down the hallway expectantly. 

“It is my understanding,” He begins, lifting his hand as two more men come out of the elevator with bags and points at the ground with a nod. He finally looks over at James. “That Mr. Stark requested that his son’s suitemate be vetted thoroughly before being placed and that whomever he was, that he be responsible and capable. He has very high expectations, you should consider it a compliment.”

James blood pressure rises and he steps to the side to let the movers drop the bags. He glares back at Mr. Jarvis.

“You think I’m gonna be this kids babysitter?” He hisses, staring at the butler character. The man looks back at him, clearly very tired and sighs.

“Of course not. Mr. Stark just has a preference for those with a military background, and you must have come with exceptional marks.” The man turned to face him more forwardly. “Despite what you may have heard about Tony or the fact that he is young...he is more than capable of looking after himself.” He hesitates for a moment, then continues. “He is not who you expect him to be.”   
  


James gaze slides to the bags lining the hall, bursting at the seams, worth far more than his own, brands he’d never dream to ever attempt to afford and rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah. We’ll see about that.”

* * *

James doesn’t see Tony Stark again until Wednesday.

He has three classes on Monday, Wednesday and Friday, and an additional night class on Wednesday that goes for 2 and a half hours. It’s absolutely wretched; some kind of business acumen course that he CLEP’d into and as much as he knows he’s gonna hate the theory and bullshit he’s gonna have to learn, he’s not _bad_ at that stuff. He plans to be an officer in the Air Force when this is all said and done and knows something like this will help with the political maneuvering that comes with the upward mobility associated with that rank.

Tony’s door is closed the first two days of the week. James hears him leaving at different times of the day; he came back past midnight on Tuesday, and James assumes he was out partying with some of the other rich kids across campus. He's bracing himself for all-nighters and an eventual stream of other trust fund kids coming in and out with alcohol and God knows what else and is fully prepared to make a fuss to the R.A. if it ever disturbs his studying. He considers telling the kid to watch himself but thinks otherwise; James meant it when he said he wasn’t going to be Stark’s babysitter and he wasn’t his parent. 

He’s locking the door to head to his night class when Tony’s door swings open as well. The boy looks at him with wide eyes, hair a mess, a half-empty pack on his back and disheveled notebooks in his arms. He looks James up and down warily while he closes his own door and waits until James walks away to follow behind him, down the stairs and out the building before he speaks.

“You have a class now?”

James doesn’t even look at him. “Sure do.”

“Which building?”

“The Chang building.”

Tony perks up. “Hey, me too! It’s not Industrial Econ, is it?”

James stops short and Tony almost runs into him, falling a little off-balance as he comes to a close halt. James turns slowly, eyes narrowing. “Industrial Economics for Strategic Decisions?”

Tony snaps his fingers, “Yeah! Hey! We’re in a class together, how cool is that?” His eyes narrow. “Isn’t that a sophomore-level class? How’d you get into it?”

James doesn’t like the implication. “You’re 15, how did _you_ get in?”

Tony rolls his eyes. “16. And I took the pre-req over the summer. It was a complete bitch, I had to have like, 3 tutors. I absolutely despise business stuff, I’m better with my hands.” He grins, holding his hands up, wiggling his fingers. “But my dad’s a real pain in the ass about it since I'm gonna take over the company one day. What about you?”

“I tested into it,” James responds shortly, setting off again. He attempts to speed up but the kid paces him and instead of just following, is now walking right at his side. 

“That is amazing news because like I said, I hate this stuff and I’m gonna need all the help I can get.” He looks at James sideways. “I mean. If that’s okay. You don’t have to if you don’t want to but…”

“It’s fine.” 

Tony’s brows raise up at the rebuff and he silences, all the way until they get to the building. He follows James up the stairs to the second floor and into a large room and he must have gotten the hint because Tony sits a few rows away, closer to the front. It surprises James because he's assumed off the bat that Tony was more of a slacker type, probably just here for the paper before he gets to ride the coattails of his father’s successes. He has heard the kid is a genius, but he’s also a rich kid and accustomed to having things just happen for him; surely he hasn’t had to jump through the hoops James has to get here, didn’t have to worry about he was going to pay for it when he did. 

He starts to feel slightly uneasy. There hasn’t been any real indication, actually, that Tony was an asshole. In fact, in the two interactions he’s had with the kid, Tony has been friendly and curious and maybe a little annoying, but harmless all the same. He watches as the boy flips open a notebook, staring at something written on the front page with a thoughtful look on his face. James notices people staring at Tony, pointing at Tony, whispering to their friends, and he notices, once the professor walks in and lets the door close behind him, that no one has sat near Tony.

James frowns. 

“Alright everyone, settle in. I’m gonna make this quick and get you out of here early, but don’t expect that to become a pattern.”

The professor continues on, walking by the rows, handing out stacks of what James assumes is the syllabus. He gets close to where Tony is and just beams down at the kid.

“Mr. Stark, I thought I saw your name on my list. What a pleasure it’s going to be to have you in class. At 15.” He shook his head. “Very impressive. I expect great things from you.”

Tony smiles back up at him softly, his face growing a deep red before looking away. James sees a few people in his periphery roll their eyes; one makes a jerk-off motion with his hands, and another stifles a laugh.

James presses his lips together. Tony stays silent the remaining half-hour they’re there as the Professor does a cursory skim of the syllabus and takes a few questions before dismissing them and Tony is one of the first ones out the door. James hurries to catch up to him, jogging down the stairs and calls to him. 

“Tony, hey. Hey!”

Tony’s shoulders stiffen and he sighs, closing his eyes. He hitches the backpack onto his shoulder, crossing his arms. “Yeah, James?

He supposes he deserves that, for how short he was earlier with him. “Just wondering if you wanted to walk back together or get something to eat for dinner. That’s all.”

Tony relaxes but looks at him warily. “I’ll pass. But thanks.” And he starts walking away and James sighs, hurrying after him.

“Tony, wait…” James walks after him. “Does, um...that happen a lot to you? The thing with the professor?”

Tony turns red. “Uh. Yeah. Kinda. Dad gives a lot of money to the school so they kind of…” He shakes his head. “Don’t want to make the son of a millionaire mad, you know what I mean?"

“That sucks, dude, I’m sorry. For that, and for earlier.” James sets into a rhythm next to him, matching step for step. “I’ve been stressed out with starting classes, I didn’t mean to be rude earlier. I was kind of an asshole.”

“Eh, well, I have a tendency to bring that out in people,” Tony responds with a wry grin. “Apology accepted, though it’s completely unnecessary.”

“If you ever need help with the class stuff, my door is open.”

Tony chuckles. “Honestly, I’m going to need it, so make sure you’re serious before you say yes to that. _‘I expect great things from you’_” Tony mocks the professor, face twisting into a scowl. “Ugh, he’s got another thing coming.”

James actually smiles a little, pushing the door to the building open and letting Tony through first. “We’ll take care of it.” He cocks his head to the side as Tony begins to peel away. “You not going back to the dorms?”

“What?” Tony asks. Realizing James is heading in the opposite direction, he grins. “Ah. No, I um, I’m gonna head to the mech lab. I’ve spent the last few evenings over there, it clears my head.”

“Mech lab?"

“Yeah, in the Engineering building. The head tech does some work for SI and kind of gave me license to come in and tinker whenever I want. You can come if you’d like.”

_That’s where he’s been the last few nights?_ James dumbfoundedly holds up his hands. “Nah, not tonight. Maybe some other time.”

“Offers always open.” Tony grins. “Catch you later, Jim.”

James frowns. “It’s James.” 

“Same difference!” Tony tosses back over his shoulder, already walking in the direction of the lab. James glowers after the kid but he can’t seem to muster the level of disdain he’d had the last couple of days about him. There was something oddly charming in Tony’s flippant attitude, though he was pretty sure James and Jim were completely different and only his friends got to call him nicknames. 

Sure he was gonna be _nice_ to the kid, but that didn’t make them _friends_. The kid didn’t seem to be as much of an entitled prick as James had expected off the bat, but if he was gonna be living next to him for the year, it wouldn’t kill him to lighten up a little. After all, what was the worst that was gonna happen?

* * *

They’re a few weeks into the semester when James begins to figure a few things out about Tony.

First off---the kid is insatiable when it comes to knowing things. If something is bothering him or creating a problem, Tony's incapable of stopping until he figured it out. He spends most of his nights at the lab, regardless of problems or not, and James cautions against it on more than one account when Tony mentions dozing off in classes.

Secondly---Tony does not like to ask for help, not when he actually needs it. Most of their tutoring sessions have occurred when Tony “accidentally” runs into James in the hall and casually mentions something from the last lecture. James just sighs and lets him into his room where they sit and go over stuff until Tony seems to get it. 

Something else James has realized is this: Tony is not crazy about Howard Stark.

He guesses it’s not surprising. A lot of kids didn’t get along with their parents, and it’s evident Tony is under some pressure to make sure he doesn’t fuck up the company someday so that probably doesn’t make things easier. There’s always a level of derision in his voice when Tony talks about his father, an eye-roll or scoff that tells James plenty he doesn’t need to directly ask about.

So when he sees a flyer announcing that Howard Stark was going to be giving a presentation during the week, James isn’t completely surprised that he hadn’t heard it from Tony first himself. He mentions it later that night, leaning into Tony’s room and Tony rolls his eyes.

“Right. I meant to mention it. He’s probably gonna be here the morning before his speech so you’ve been fairly warned.”

James lets it go, not expecting much more and honestly forgets about it until Friday morning comes and he can hear muffled yelling through the wall of his room. 

He opens his door and just stares at Tony’s. It’s unintelligible but it’s definitely yelling---some man, assumedly Howard Stark, and sharp, short interjections before there are scuffling sounds and a sharp shout. The man says something more, something short and the door is yanked open and suddenly, James is face to face with the famous millionaire himself.

Howard Stark isn’t a terribly imposing figure. He can’t be much taller than Tony, but his hair is gray and he’s wearing a suit that may be worth an entire semester’s tuition. His eyes narrow when he takes in James, and he pulls at the lapels of his jacket, straightening it out.

“I take it you’re the suitemate.” He holds out a hand, gruffly continuing. “Howard Stark.”

“James Rhodes.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Howard says, but he doesn’t sound sincere. “Tony tells me you’ve been helping him with Econ. I appreciate that, but you don’t have to help him---he needs to figure some of that out on his own.”

“I don’t help much. He gets there well enough by himself.”

Howard is examining him, seeming to mull over James’ answer and sighs. “Well. Good. He just needs to stay focused. Hopefully being around someone as accomplished and disciplined as yourself will rub off.” He nods. “Have a good afternoon, Mr. Rhodes.”

And he was gone. James is left with a hollow feeling, a realization that _of course_ someone like Howard Stark probably knows more about him than he’d ever feel comfortable revealing to a stranger. James watches the man as he reaches the elevator, then he turns and knocks on Tony’s door.

“Go away.”

“Tony, it’s James. Can I come in?”

Silence. Some more shuffling. “Fine. Yeah. Sure.”

James opens the door. He can see why he heard so much; there’s a chair in the corner that looks like it was slid into the wall and papers are strewn across the floor, smattered with equations. Tony’s bent over his desk, scribbling out more. He doesn’t lookup.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, ‘m fine.” Tony answers. “Just one of Howard’s patented father-son pep talks.” 

James winces. He assumes Tony doesn’t really want to get into it, so he pivots. “How’s the stuff for Econ going? You doing okay with the extra work?”

Tony sighs deeply. “It’s coming along. I’ll figure it out.” He waves his hand. “I know you have class in a couple of hours, I’m fine. It’s fine.”

“I don’t mind helping with the Econ, Tony, and I'm in no rush for the quiz my physics professor is about to throw at me.” 

Tony looks up and James steers himself not to react at the sight of a red mark on his cheekbone. Tony is staring at him widely as if expecting him to say something about it, clearly embarrassed, and suddenly James thinks of the day they met a few weeks ago, when his own father was still here, and Tony was staring up at him with an inscrutable look.

A mix, James now realizes, of envy and longing. 

God, Howard Stark was a real prick.

“Screw your dad,” James says firmly, grabbing the chair from the corner and sitting down beside him. “Let’s work out what you have so far and we’ll go from there.”

“James, you don’t have to---”

“I want to.” James cuts him off emphatically, splaying his hand on the desk. “I know you’re working really hard.” He nods to the paper. “C’ mon, let’s walk through what you have so far.”

* * *

Midterms are upon them before they know it.

The Econ class is going better. At least for Tony, that is; James, on the other hand, has somehow found a way onto the professors bad side by correcting the man during one of his lessons and while his grades haven’t suffered for it, the man never calls on him and if he does address him at all, it’s always condescending.

James was never going to do it again, ever.

Tony’s antsy, as they walk back into the building the week after the test. He’s jittery and fiddling with the straps of his backpack and James stops him when they make it to the second-floor landing, a hand on Tony’s chest.

“Kid, chill. You did fine, you knew that stuff backward and forwards last week.”

“I know, I know, I just,” Tony licks his lips, sighing. “Failing isn't really my style, and it’s _really_ not my dad’s style and…”

“Forget your dad, man, don’t worry about it,” James nudges his shoulder, spinning him towards the classroom. “Let’s do this.”

He practically drags the kid in. Slowly, over time, they’ve migrated to sit at desks closer together, and no one shoots looks at the boy or makes sideways comments now that he isn’t so alone. Tony sinks into the desk with a miserable sigh and presses a hand over his eyes. The professor walks in right before the hour hits and begins to drone about how most of the class did alright, but there are obviously some people who need to work harder and do better and James has a hard time not rolling his eyes. 

Tony very clearly thinks he’s one of those people because James hears him groan softly off to the side. The professor begins to hand back the tests, face down so grades are hidden; he gets to James desk and slides his over with a flat, annoyed look; James flips it over right away.

** _94_ **

He sighs in relief and then eyes the professor, who is standing in front of Tony’s desk with a half-grin. 

“You know, Mr. Stark, this is a sophomore-level class. And you had it a little rough at first, and I was concerned your maturity could be lacking…”

Tony turns bright red. James just sits up in his seat, an angry objection stirring in his chest, about to open his mouth when the professor makes his point.

“...but you’ve really come into your own, just like I expected.” He slides Tony’s test towards him, face up with a nod, and James can see a bright red **_85_** circled at the top of it. Tony’s entire body just deflates in relief, puddling into his seat. “Such a pleasure to see. Keep up the good work.”

James bites back whatever he was about to say, and lets his lips curl into a soft smile, glad to see Tony’s relief. 

What he does not expect…

“Well, doc,” Tony begins, stopping the teacher in his tracks a full two desks away. “That credit really goes to James over here, I'd be totally dead in the water without his help.”

The man turns slowly, a dark, heavy gaze falling on James before moving back to Tony. “Well, it’s always a good idea to have a study partner, I’m glad to he---”

“No, he’s like, way more than a study partner, he’s basically the only reason I figured any of this out, he’s a great teacher,”

“_Tony_.” James hisses, as softly as possible.

“I’m just saying, if anyone needs any help, this is definitely your guy.” Tony is grinning at him, eyes dancing and the professor has turned pink behind him because it’s settling in that, oh, this student he doesn’t like, he’s in with the millionaire kid that he’s been sucking up to so maybe he should remember that.

“Well, Mr. Rhodes,” The teacher clears his throat. “That is unsurprising, considering your marks. Keep up the good work.” 

And he continues on his way.

James' face is on fire the rest of the class. Everyone around them keeps darting glances, and he doesn't miss the whispers when the exchange occurs. In fact, James is just glad that when class ends, no one approaches him for tutoring sessions.

“What the hell was _that_?” He hisses after class, following Tony closely down the hall. Tony spins and grins. 

“Oh, you didn’t like that? I was just giving credit where credit is due.”

“He hates my guts, Tony.”

“Yeah, because you’re smarter than he is,” Tony quips back. “And people don’t treat my friends like that.”

_My friends_. Tony cringes a little like he realizes it sounds a little presumptuous and he opens his mouth to backtrack, but James stops him.

“Tony. We’re friends.” James reassures. “But I don’t want you putting yourself in a bad spot for me.”

Tony just grins, clearly relieved. “Ah, well, millionaire’s son. Believe me, Platypus, he’s not gonna say anything to me.”

“Platy---” James sputters, pushing the door out to the quad. “Where the hell do you get that from? It's James or Jim. You can call me Jim if it's easier. ” 

Tony’s nose wrinkles at that, walking a few paces in front of him. His mouth is still twisted in a little smile, a pen dangling now between his teeth. He turns and starts to walk backward away from his suitemate, as if deep in thought.

“James is such an old person name though.”

“Rhodes then.” Rhodes is, after all, what all his ROTC buddies call him and he supposes they’re there by now, and it’ll be easier for him to set the boundaries. Tony only grins, snatching the pen from his mouth and pointing it at Rhodes with a wink. 

“Rhodey!” The kid crows in delight. “You are definitely a Rhodey.” He skips a little, turning in the air, ready to sprint off to work in the lab. “Head to breakfast tomorrow at 6, meet in the hall?”

“It’s Rhodes!” James calls after the boy, already getting distant. He sighs, muttering to himself, “And 6 is fine.”

The kid is exasperating. There were a lot of ways he'd thought of how this first year would pan out. He'd expected to make friends but he hadn't expected to become so fond of anyone---he had friends back home, sure, but there was something about this kid, with his round brown eyes and what he'd come to figure out was some kind of false bravado that made him want to...look out for him almost. He wasn't sure how he felt about that, necessarily, but there was one thing he was relatively certain of, watching the kids figure fade into the dusky light of the evening.

This was probably only the beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> i grabbed some of this stuff from the MIT website but i assume building names and class titles were probablyyyy a little different 30 years ago, so take it with a grain of salt.


End file.
